Coffee and a Conversation
As Told Over Brunch is a home for intelligent discourse from the twenty-something perspective - so the stuff you gossip about over mimosas on Sunday morning or over takeout on your friend's couch when happy hour ends too early. We love chatting about our lives, whether it be the relationships we’re building (or destroying), lessons we've learned at work, struggles at school, growing pains we've felt, or even the food we’re talking over.
On my 13th birthday, my mom asked me for a wish list so I jotted down the desires of a bookish adolescent, which included the latest installment of “Eragon” and probably a tennis racket. Item #10 was “a bird.”
Read MoreCazey came this weekend to visit me for a brief — but appreciated — three hours before training down to Virginia Beach. As friends do, we were catching each other up on our personal lives.
Have you written about this yet?
Was Cazey’s immediate question after I shared. It’s kind of sad and embarrassing, I replied.
Hi, everyone. In the last few weeks, I’ve started writing haikus on my phone. It’s become increasingly easy to think of a passing feeling or moment and conceptualize 5-7-5 syllables. I also feel like I’m using my general ed requirements from undergrad. I’ve decided to publish a selection below.
I’ve never fallen
in love, but I tasted it
And choked it up fast.
I unfollowed you
to let you know it’s okay
we are not okay.
The week I was supposed to go to France, an article about my old favorite TV show, “Lost,” popped up in my Facebook feed. The article reflected on an episode that premiered a decade before and centered on time travel—a popular theme for “Lost” if you were a fan. In particular, the article mentioned the difficulty in writing the episode because time travel presents several paradoxes that either must be assumed impossible or else time travel must be assumed impossible.
The Grandfather Paradox stuck with me – essentially, you must believe there are certain truths that cannot be altered by time travel. For instance, you can’t kill your grandfather (before at least your parent is born), or else you forfeit your own existence, but you can’t not exist if you are the one changing your own future.
Read MorePrelude: I wrote this post after returning to my hometown years ago. It's rather sad, which is why I never posted it. Now after almost two full years after writing it, I feel mostly removed from it. I hardly remember feeling this way. My current headspace is much sounder and therefore am finally comfortable sharing it.
I was thrilled to be coming home. It had been a year, and the last time I came home was not for fun. It was going to be relaxing and exciting to be curled up in my old bed. It was going to be for a while, and not just a long weekend. I was even happy to be back in a shared room with my sister, just like old times.
Last week I turned 24. Three days later the dog my family adopted twelve years ago passed away. I don't want to say my dog's passing is fitting, but it is cruelly symmetrical.
I was the only one in the family who could spell her name: Guinevere, not Gwenevere or Guenevere, but yes, Gwenny. I remember I wanted a dog so bad at 12. Our golden retrievers passed away two years before, but I was born into their family; I had never raised a dog.
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